shift. dream. hero.

❝… Carlos, I don’t understand.❞ His mind wasn’t letting him understand. This situation was way beyond his comprehension. Out of his depths. But, you couldn’t blame him for being doubtful even when shit was thrown in his face, front and center; trauma can do awful things to the brain if repressed and kept bottled up over years. He didn’t expect Carlos to immediately get it. Hell, even he couldn’t understand it for himself.

It was just weird and uncomfortable and made him panic.

Even though Carlos was a wonderful man, Virote still couldn’t allow himself to be so trusting. Not when Carlos was almost too good to be true. Kind, funny, handsome, quirky. A little weird, but it as a good kind of weird. ❝I’m so sorry.❞

This situation fucking sucked and he had no one to blame but himself.

❝I want to be happy, I do. I wanna be so happy and excited that you wanna be with me. But, like, there’s this little voice in the back of my head telling me that you’re gonna hurt me, eventually. To not get my hopes up. That you deserve better. What do we do about this? I feel like I’m wasting your time. I like you, too. I do. I like you more than actual… Liking. I’m so scared, though. Terrified. I can’t be hurt. Not again, not after I’ve tried my hardest to keep myself safe.❞

Carlos finally stood up from the door frame, taking one step, then another, and... no, just two steps into the apartment. The way Vi was reacting to his show of affection was like a frightened cat backed into a corner, hairs up on end, so... wouldn’t it be best to keep a little physical distance, for now? He wanted to embrace him, but that voice that told him the right way to go was telling him to keep his distance, or he’d probably get tased, or something.

“You’re not wasting my time. Well...” He let out another chuckle. Wouldn’t be the first of the evening, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, either. “...if you simply accepted the bouquet, I think that’d be a more optimal use of our mutual time together. I mean, it’s pretty clear we’ve moved past the liking phase, and yet... I’m still out here, and you’re still in there. What’s wrong with this picture?”

He folded his arms, somehow finding a way to keep every single flower in the bouquet upright, not a single one dropping. There were certain advantages to being a firefighter.

   — STAGGERED BY THE IMPACT OF THEIR COLLISION, Delta could focus only on trying not to fall backwards as he grappled for a firm hold on the shelves at his side. A weak wave of adrenaline quickened his heartbeat as it coursed through his ancient body. At his age, a tumble like that could have had some very unpleasant consequences. He couldn’t help but scowl as he found his footing again; there were very few things in this world that he could truthfully say he hated, but being startled just so happened to be one of them. However, he was skilled as ever at hiding what little he still felt; all that showed on his face was a mild look of disapproval, albeit one that increased slightly in severity when he realized who was standing before him.

   Of course. Of course it had to be Carlos. Never a dull moment, he thought sorely to himself.

  As he stooped to retrieve his basket, he felt a sharp pain in his lower back, and his facial muscles tightened involuntarily at the suddenness of it. To follow, and perhaps just to further inconvenience him, his spine emitted an unpleasant-sounding crack when he straightened back up. Ah, the joys of living in a constantly deteriorating body.

   “Ngh. I… must say,” he huffed, biting back a groan of discomfort, “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here, Carlos. You seem to be in… quite the rush.”

“I am! Although, not too much of a rush to at least stop and say hello.”

He got everything back in the basket, bending down to make sure Delta had it all when he stood back up. That crack did sound pretty bad, but not bad enough to wipe the smile off of Carlos’s face. Nothing could, really. A chainsaw to the hands wouldn’t be enough, on a day like today.

“It’s, uh good to see you,” he said, not stopping to realize what a bizarre statement that was, given everything that had transpired in the Underground Shelter. 

❝I don’t understand.❞ A simple state with little to no fanfare. He didn’t show much of a reaction, though… There did seem to be something he wanted to express. However, even he didn’t know what it was. Virote felt something. Something. Heart pounding and palms becoming sweaty. His expression became unreadable. Was he smiling? Grimacing? Couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter, anyway. It fell flat. He liked Carlos. Hell, he liked Carlos a hell of a lot. Adored him, even. There was nothing malicious or evil or highfalutin about him. Just a good man with a good heart.

It was hard for Virote to wrap his head around that. God, he started thinking of all the failed almosts he had. A lineup of douchebags and shitheads that had the depth of a dried puddle.

He thought about Ȃ̷̖̠̝̯̣̤̥̃ͅn̵̬͙͖̩͚͐͌͜ẗ̷̛̝̥́̽́͘͝h̵̨͇̟͒̆̒̋͘͜͝ơ̶̙̖̅͊́̓͐͘͝ͅņ̴̡͔͖̣̜̬͙̍͝ÿ̵̢̑̆̀͒̓̈́͗ͅ and the emotional pain that came with that relationship.

Frou Frou kept playing in the background. Virote forgot that he had Details on repeat, Hear Me Out barely audible over the thunderstorm going on outside. Kiki was curled up in a corner by herself, fast asleep and undisturbed. Suddenly, his room didn’t feel like his room. Not anymore. A lot of the time, despite the warm lighting and lavish furnishings, his room felt cold. A morgue he could leave any time. With Carlos there, flowers in hand, he felt a sense of okayness he hadn’t had in a long, long while. ❝Or, I dunno. I might understand. You mind giving me some clarification, Carlos? What do you want from me?❞

Carlos had prepared for this moment in the cheesiest of ways, holding up that bouquet in the doorway like those damn signs from Love, Actually. He hadn’t even made it through the threshold, choosing instead to lean against the door frame, shaded by the hallway, chest muscles on display, like a douchebag.

He wasn’t one - certainly not intentionally - but he sure came across like one, sometimes.

“What do I want? Isn’t it obvious? I just told you!” 

There wasn’t anything complex about Carlos’s state. Happiness. Amusement. Calm. No hollerin’, no hootin’, no gluten, and certainly no highfalutin.

“You didn’t believe me when I said it face to face, and you didn’t believe me when I said in text messages. So, I tried saying it in flowers, but, clearly, something’s been a little lost in translation...”

He let out a laugh, before shaking his head in bewilderment.

❝You’re lucky I think you’re hot. You’re freaking me the fuck out, dude.❞

The kind of shit he despised. Being peered through and figured out without any effort made. Who exactly was this fucking dude and how was he so calm? Made him uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. Phi knew exactly what she was doing in setting them up, huh? She knew. Crafty lady. Sneaky. He’d be sure to hurl his anxious questions at her after all of this was said and done. He anticipated there probably wouldn’t be a second date. Most men never gave him the chance. Whatever.

❝… My father’s side of the family, they’re what you can call, like, espers or whatever. Seers, psychics, diviners. Magic. They possess a lot of magical gifts. Maw du, we call ‘em back home. My mother’s side of the family is a bit more complicated than that.❞ He hated this conversation.

      ♫ Winding down       the evening       record on repeat       a little wine

      Caught in my apartment       not that rain is falling       but we need time…  ♫

And, at least there was mood music. Not entirely sure what his mood was, though. Virote sat back in his seat. Quiet. Had to reel himself back in, had to get his head back on his shoulders. He felt dizzy and embarrassed and seen. ❝I don’t want to go into details, I don’t feel like now is the right time, but… Like, aliens. Extraterrestrials. Planets personified. That’s the other part of my story. Life’s weird when your grandmother is the celestial embodiment of intuition, psychic powers.❞ A sigh. 

❝If you’re gonna make me spill my guts like this, at least kiss me before you block my number.❞ God. Carlos really was fine. Too fine. Shockingly so. The kind of fine you see at Trader Joe’s and drop your cheesy baguette over. Virote dropped the entire baked goods aisle, at this point.

“Your whole family? Wow...”

The tall glass of water was having another glass of water. It was the best way he knew to show he was listening.

“My sister’s the only person I'm related to - that I know about, anyway - that has any kind of powers. Although in her case, it’s really Reverie Syndrome, not any kind of world saving superpower. But maw du... it’s so cool to see how this is coming from other cultures, and other ways of life, far before science and America ever put a label on it.”

He raised an eyebrow at the second half of the family tree. “Aliens? Planets personified? No way. Nooo way. If you were telling me this if I were seven years old, I would’ve been the happiest kid on Earth. I knew aliens were real. My parents and my teachers kept saying no, and I eventually shut up about it, but wow... to think I was right all along...”

The food had arrived, by this point, and Carlos had barely waited to chow down. Even the hot curry was no match for his fork, spoon, and gullet. He was almost as loud as the milk and honey.

“Of course I’m gonna kiss you,” he said, in between mouthfuls. “What kind of gentleman doesn’t kiss? I’m a gentlem- aw, no. Got curry on my tanktop. What a klutz.”

It was such an anime moment, one would have thought it intentional. (It wasn’t.)

Carlos was a nice man. A very nice man. Charming, charming, charming. Beautiful and his soul appeared to be as sweet as honey. Virote had a hard time trusting him, though. But, on the flip side, he was one of Phi’s friends. Phi was… Well, he trusted her judgment. He didn’t trust her judgment in her own dating life ( for fuck’s sake, she’s dating a 7ft tall, murderous demon of a woman. ) However, he knew Phi wouldn’t fuck him over and set him up with a weirdo that had malicious intentions. She would never.

What a strange situation. He nodded his head to whatever Carlos had to say, trying to keep himself tethered to the conversation. Showing any signs of anxiety would’ve proven to be a god damn disaster. Chill out, chill out, chill out, chilloutchilloutchilloutchill—THEN, his phone buzzed. 

He stared at Carlos. His expression dropped. Doom hitting him right over the fucking head with a comically large mallet. Retrieving the pink flip phone from his bag, Virote opened it underneath the table. And, for a second there, Carlos could see his disposition crumble even more.

      ( txt. | carlos. ) i know what ur talking about, carlos.

      ( txt. | carlos. ) but hmmm, i feel like we’re connected in very different ways. u are a human aren’t u? phi didnt say anything about u being not human and u don’t ping me as an otherworldly creature or some shit so what gives? whats ur deal

      ( txt. | carlos. ) im not gonna lie im kinda terrified lmao youre not gonna like kill me or some shit right???? if so ill just take another martini to go and call an uber 

      ( txt. | carlos. ) wtf are you? and do you intend on hurting me? :/ 

Odd. You know, under any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have been so frightened. Couldn’t figure out what made this situation so different. It didn’t help that the waiter finally arrived, asking for their order. Virote, unable to say anything, only looked to his dining partner, prompting him to speak. The wall came down for one second. One second, just so he could tell Carlos…

      ’ … Shanghai noodles and another sake martini, please?’

Carlos couldn’t help but grin as he read the text messages.

He was right, of course. He had a peculiar destiny, a unique precognition, to always make the correct course of action. Aside from the results of a single coin toss, he’d been correct a full one hundred percent of the time. And now that he knew about the morphogenetic field, he could wordlessly, instinctively tell when someone had access to it.

There were details that piqued his interest, however. ‘Different ways.’ This focus on humanity, of being human. As Vi put it, ‘an otherworldly creature or some shit.’ Some shit, indeed.

Maybe he should cut out on the grinning. Especially because he seemed to be frightening the poor fellow. But he couldn’t help it, could he? His natural disposition was to smile, no matter the circumstances. Let a smile be your umbrella, on a rainy, rainy day.

So, when the message came through, he scarcely blinked. He knew, somehow. The power of a ‘receiver’. Actually, it had never once happened to him before - both Akane and Clover told him how it worked for them, and Phi had her own weird variation of it - but it was a textbook case of ‘receiving’ a message. He heard it loud and clear.

“We’re ready. I’m having the Yellow Coconut Curry Tofu, and he’ll have the Shanghai Noodles. And one... no, make that two more sake martinis. Thanks!”

As the waiter left, Carlos rested his elbows on the table.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. The texts had worked, he didn’t need to use that finagling anymore. “I’m not trying to frighten you, and the only ways I’d hurt you are in extremely safe and consensual positions. But...”

He took a dramatic sip of his water.

Something felt… Off. Not in a bad way, but it wasn’t completely welcome in his space, either. Felt invasive and prying. Wasn’t a psychic attack. Didn’t feel negative. If it were a psychic attack, he would’ve felt much more uncomfortable. Virote’s brow furrowed and he took a second to glance around. What the fuck? No, seriously. What? What a weird situation. Wait, could Carlos read his mind? Not in a direct way, perhaps. He was gifted with an ability, though. Okay! Well, Virote couldn’t have any of that. Couldn’t let Carlos take a peek into his psyche.

He steeled himself over the best he could, forming a barrier. A mental block. A wall.

It was almost like locking Carlos out of a building, leaving the key hanging above his head and far beyond his reach. Anyway, with that over and done with, Virote did his best to listen. Seemed like he had a heart of gold, putting his life on the line just to rescue folks from dangerous fires. It wasn’t every day that he met such selfless men. ❝That’s really cool. Not entirely sure how often you hear this, but, thank you for your bravery.❞ 

Virote opened his menu, only glancing up when he was prompted to speak about his own occupation. ❝I mostly work with people who are dealing with trauma or are otherwise emotionally repressed. I encourage them to express the words they cannot say with art. I also evaluate their art and work with their psychologist to determine further treatment. Over time I help them use art as a tool for self therapy. It’s, uh. Like, it’s a topic very close to my heart. I grew up troubled and art has always been there to help me vent. I wanna open up the gift of self-expression to others, so they can also learn how to cope.❞ 

Another look at the menu, taking brief pause to get a look at what he wanted ( in an ideal world, he’d be asked about his order and he’d just say ‘ yes ’ to get every single dish. ) ❝My sessions include activities such as working with clay, painting, making masks, creating a visual journal, and assembling a collage. Most often, the focus will be on the process rather than creating a finished art product. Right now, I’m planning on teaching my group about various origami folds and connecting them with certain feelings. Sooo, hey, if you wanna give your friends my card, feel free.❞ A pause. ❝Hopefully, we can cover plenty of bases, tonight.❞ 

That was forward and he sure didn’t give a fuck, baby!

He frowned, ever so slightly. The aura around Virote was changing. People usually didn’t do that. He could see into their eyes, and hearts, and that wouldn’t change right on the spot. But with Virote... it was like he was consciously, very consciously walling himself off from any sort of reading.

Could be a SHIFTer? Or, maybe some other kind of esper? He’d met Clover, and Akane had told him of several more. People who were sensitive to things beyond normal consciousness, what modern society often called a ‘psychic.’ Interesting. It might have been what Akane was referring to by the words  ‘evolutionary adaptation...’

But it’d be rude to so deeply analyze him like this - especially when he was so openly pouring out his soul in public. Carlos sat forward, listening intently, with muscular arms on the table, in a manner that really showed off the veins. He may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had learned a thing or two about what people liked - and even if Virote was walling himself off, he still seemed very, very down for what would eventually unfold.

“That’s a really cool area. The way you describe it... I feel like I’d probably want to do a session, too. Especially with origami. I’ve heard about it in hospitals, but not in quite the way you’re describing it. Oh-”

He feigned a jolt of surprise, setting a small keikaku in motion.

“Hey, I just got a text. You don’t mind if I answer this, do you? It’s important. Sorry.”

His arms retreated, bending under the table. His brow furrowed again, trying to find the best words for this, but... very soon, his dining partner would hear a buzz on his phone, and a series of messages, in full, complete sentences. 

[[ Look, if you don’t want me peering into your mind, I understand. ] [[ It’s scary. ] [[ In fact, I’m such a novice in my level of understanding, it’s been less than a year since I was able to put a name to anything I do. ] [[ But you understand what I’m talking about, right? Even without me putting it into words. ] [[ Morphic resonance. Clairvoyance. ESP. ] [[ We’re both connected to a higher dimension. ]